The Jersey Shore.

June 10, Beachwood.

It is positively searing, and it's not fun at all. This is the fourth day but should be the last, alleluia. As the heat settled and grew, the show went shrinking. Sara didn't perform her trapeze act, as the heat in the upper parts of the tent became unbearable and the air too thin; the Kenyans didn't work today's last show either.
We're on the Jersey Shore (and here for two days again, oh the luxuries,) and I just love the way they say it here. The Jersey Shore. And I love the diners, their gaudiness, the waitresses, the outrageous pies on display when you come in, and the miles of Danish, the smell of coffee, diner food.
A French woman's paradise, positively.